


The complaint

by eternalbloodrelative



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, F/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:20:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22366279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternalbloodrelative/pseuds/eternalbloodrelative
Summary: Someone makes a complaint about a certain Slytherin. Hermione has to evaluate it, but Malfoy doesn't want her to read it. She demands something particular in exchange.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 114





	The complaint

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my primary language. I'm self-taught (by reading fanfics). So please have that in mind! If you spot any errors (which surely are and I couldn't identify during the proofreading) please let me know.

**The complaint**

"What're you doing here?"

Malfoy's scanning eyes move away from the surface of the desk to look at the owner. He doesn't look guilty at being caught red handed, oh, no, of course not. He's angry, standing with his hands up and face scarlet red.

"I'm trying to find something. But mighty Granger puts wards on her possessions like--"

"Like someone is going to illegally burst into my office and go through my things?"

He sends her a glare full of scorn before returning to the past action. At the evident continuity of his illegal endeavors Hermione moves quickly towards her desk. Her wand lifts the wards to rapidly hide the documents. She doesn't remember what's in there. Not that she would do anything questionable in a Ministry's office, but one can never know what a Malfoy could take as ammunition.

"Hey! Let that go." She yells, taking the papers that found his hand quicker than the drawer. "Stop!" She tries again, but his fury seems too large to listen to reason or her voice. "Malfoy!" He knocks over the muggle pencil case. "What are you even looking for?"

"Bloody Weyes's complaint."

"What complaint?" Hermione stops trying to take away the paper from him and instead goes for his hands. His skin is hot under her palms. The contact makes him pause some seconds enough to listen to her. "Sit down and explain."

His frantic movements migrate from his hands to his feet, which takes him up and down the little space of which consisted her office. Hermione takes domain of her desk, deciding to sit down, and observes the man quietly. Some months ago she would be yelling her voice off, cursing him and teaching him about property and manners, but this isn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. The man had a talent for being the epitome of politeness and pureblood manners, at the same time that being a rude git. Wasn't it last Saturday that he had decided to make the new group's weekly reunion at some fancy, pricey restaurant only because he had wanted to drink some bloody specific wine? Her wallet had suffered from that, and Harry had been cursed to hell and back for hooking up with Daphne Greengrass and so constraining Hermione to socialize with wealthy former enemies.

The witch pinches the bridge of her nose in exasperation. "Malfoy, if you only want to walk, you have several halls in the Ministry to burn off with your feet. I invite you to move on."

"Shut up."

Now it's her turn to clench her jaw, as she caress the wood of her wand. How much reprimand would she get for hexing a colleague?

"You know, it's your fault."

"Excuse me?"

He stops on his rant to observe her, the anger still visible in the little veins on his forehead. "Yes."

"I don't even know what you are talking about, Malfoy. But, yes," she continues, rolling her eyes as she opens her drawer to reorganize the desk as it was: in order depending on its urgency, "it's surely my fault, please go along. I have work to do."

His frantic feet move towards the desk and he stops, fulminating her with his eyes as he swallows. "You--," he starts and stops, making her arch an eyebrow at him which he wants to burn off. Hermione waits for him to find the words that are missing as the redness grows more intense. "You're muggleborn." Hermione acts surprised, he scoffs. "And you hate me. Weyes has been torturing me with that, so it's your fault."

He sits down at least, visibly biting the inside of his mouth at the memory of his colleague. "Did the torture kill all your neurons and incapacitate your speech ability?"

Reclining against the chair and making a sarcastic false smile, he takes some time to think on what to say. "He hates me. You know he has been threatening me with negatives, abysmal reports since I started." Which wouldn't do with his actual Auror career and his past records. She knew this very well, because she was in charge, among other things, of keeping up with the human resources and solving any issues among the Auror department. "And-- now, he has invented something awful that presumably I said about you-- eh-- your _muggleness_ , let's say, and write a complaint about it."

"Presumably..."

"Yes, presumably," he repeats, each consonant of the word resounding like a drum. "I don't do that any--"

"You talk shit about me all the time."

"Language, Granger." She scoffs. "And yes, but that's solely because it's you, not because your background." Prince charming couldn't hold a candle to this praises.

Feed up with his arrogant and narcissist nature, she puts an end to the conversation. "Ok, I will see it when it comes."

There's a loud sound and she almost jump off the chair, when he hits the desk with one fist. She glances at him and he's now even redder. He can tell that that hadn't be wise, because he sighs irritated and continues in the most composed voice she has hear from him today, rubbing at his hot face. "You don't have to even see it, just burn it."

She fulminates him with her eyes and wishes to close her hands around his neck. "I am not going to do that."

"Burn it."

"No."

He puts his hand on her desk again, and Hermione knows so well this technique of dominance that she no longer wishes to hex him, oh no, she wishes to take her wand and bury it in his carotid vein. Something must be in the air, because he quickly catches it and narrows his eyes at her calculating. "I will owe you a favor."

She scoffs rather loudly and then laughs. "Why would I want that?"

Malfoy leans back, clearly offended by her words. The light catches the color of his skin in a way that makes her wonder of what a shame it is that a person so beautiful and intelligent decides to be so bloody arrogant and infuriating. God didn't make good decisions. Or was this the devil's work? That must be, she thinks.

"There must be something that you want, Granger." And his voice. He did know how to use it. Was he using his grave tone now to seduce her into accepting? There was a sudden density on the air as she looks him directly at the eyes.

Unjust devil.

There's this sense of estrangement as every corner of her visual field seems to go darker, leaving him like an angel-demon shining like a bloody lighthouse.

She reclines back now, to disperse the ambient that surely she's the only one imagining. Devil's work that too. Looking at the ceiling for something inexistent, Hermione asks herself what she really would like from him. It only takes three tapings of her fingers against the wood of the desk for the answer to materialize in her mind.

Hermione catches herself smiling with satisfaction when he asks warily. "What?"

Moving forward into the chair and cocking the head to the side, she answers with a big smile. "You have to beg me on your knees."

It's very interesting how his face transform. "I will _not_ do that, Granger." His hands grasp the desk in indignation.

"If you want me to make it disappear, you will have to."

He seems at a loss of words, his mouth hanging open and closing like a dying fish on a beach. "You're a cold--"

Her tongue clicks in disapproval. "You should watch your words."

A moving muscle is visible on his jaw and her smile grows bigger. "You must want something else other than my humiliation."

"Umh...," she tilts her head to the side and looks at the ceiling, as if there were other possibilities. Then her stare comes back to him again. "No, I think I really want that."

The man remains seated for some moments as she gloats in pleasure at seeing him caught off guard. Then he stands up, the chair making a horrible sound at the movement, and dedicates her the most intense stare of her life.

She shudders in response as he leaves the room. The door closes with a resounding bang.

Well, he didn't want it that bad, she thinks resuming her work. At least now she can return to the files, folders and complaints.

* * *

Hermione encounters the man on the elevator when the working day is over. Luckily there's more people around so he can't actually spread the wonder of his bully techniques, more than standing menacingly close, making a sharp comment of moral decadence and throwing incandesced signals with his grey eyes. Her lips turn up in mocking response, savoring the taste of power on her tongue with such a pleasure that she can't fathom why she had never bully him instead. The witch now sort of understands him, and remembering all her torment around him, especially over that expensive dinner, she says in a singing voice, "You already know the price."

Malfoy doesn't respond and almost fumes and smoke leaves from his ears with the anger and frustration. When she leaves the elevator before him and starts walking towards the Floo, she feels the fine hair on her neck tingling and sort of fears for a moment that he's going to curse her with something.

He doesn't, and she leaves towards her apartment to enjoy a night of emerging smiles while she watches a movie with Crookshanks at her side.

* * *

The next day she arrives at work early and if it wasn't for Eurydice, she would had been the one casting the lights on their Department floor. Only after entering her office, putting the coat on the rack and acquiring a cup of coffee, she notices the pile of new reports to evaluate.

Remembering Malfoy and his weird insistence, she pass over the papers until her eyes find the one the man fears.

It had been submitted by Weyes, who in her opinion is a stupid man who makes anyone doubted the standards of Hogwarts graduation requisites. His Ministry entry could be perfectly explained by connections, a well situated father or maybe a helping uncle. Either way his stupidity is astronomical and he has such an obsession with Malfoy that makes one wonder if it isn't only a expression of his current state as a closet homosexual.

She takes a sip of her coffee, leaning on the back of the chair to be comfortable enough to trespass Malfoy's orders.

And yes, of course she's going to read it. It's her work after all.

_"On Monday July 28th Hermione Granger, officer of the Law Enforcement Department, division of human resources,"_ there was no such division, _"scolded"_ she didn't scold, only explained to adult men how things should work, " _the division of Aurors of the Law Enforcement Department on the disappearing reports."_ Increasing reports on bad behavior. _"Malfoy Draco Abraxas,"_ that was not his second name, _"Auror of the Law Enforcement Department,"_ oh god, how many times did he have to repeat that, _"made a comment to his partner, who I don't wish to mention, about Hermione Granger, informing his wishes to, quote, "bend her over my desk and spank the hell out of her.""_

Oh, she thinks, her eyes staring at the quoted phrase once again.

She frowns at the paper on her hands. So much fuzz over that? Had Malfoy lost some neurons on his last visit to the hospital after the raid of the creatures trafficking ring?

_"I think measures should be taken against this insidious behavior. Yours sincerely, Weyes Francis, Auror of the Law Enforcement Department."_ Oh, for God's sake, there is no one more dense than that man. How could, whoever raised him, stand him?

The witch takes another sip inspecting the paper. Why does this entices such a worry from Malfoy? And then why did he lie? There is nothing muggle-born related in here. Or is there something she's missing?

This is ninety percent sure not an invention of the stupid man. This screams Malfoy for millions of kilometers away. She could actually picture him in her mind, leaning against a wall with his hands on the pockets of his tailored pants, as he tilts his head back and looks handsomely down at whoever is daring to speak to him. There's no especial reason on why she can imagine him so perfectly. No, not at all.

Disappointment fills her. Hermione had passed part of her night imagining the content of the report, not more, however, than him on his knees begging. She may or may had not entertain herself with the image, and subsequent derivations of it. Boredom was the cause for sure.

Well, she thinks, returning the paper on the pile and putting it on the bottom. Even if Malfoy's wishes had been for fire, it would not do. It will be rejected, of course, because even if it was disrespectful it seems to have been a private conversation, a no surprising one at that, and the source wasn't that trusted, if one would judge by his nonstop complaints about the blond. Not to say that she feels annoyed at the content and at the creator of the words.

Once the coffee is finished the witch starts working, evaluating more reports. God, she can't get fast enough out of this job.

Later, when she's eating her salad on her desk to finish a long report about the last incident the Aurors had provoked in a muggle vicinity, the door opens and the devil comes in.

Late, that's for sure, she thinks eyeing the pile where the report stills lies at the bottom.

Filling her mouth with a cherry tomato, the witch arches a brow at the man approaching her desk in three long strides.

"Where are the reports?"

After swallowing and cleaning her mouth with a napkin in the most slow motion that she can manage, she asks, "what reports?"

He growls. What is he? A ferocious beast encased in cashmere black sweater, tailored pants and shiny boots? What a fancy beast. He won't do very well in the jungle. She smiles at the silly image of him being bully by unfashioned gorillas.

She swallows more food, before continuing. "I don't know, Malfoy. Let me check." Hermione takes the pile of papers, passing each one, and putting it on another pile in a slow motion. Malfoy seems to grow a bit nervous in front of her, passing his weight from one leg to the other. "Weyes you said?" The question is rhetorical. "Oh, yes, here it is."

The words seems to emanate magic into his body, because he leans over her desk to snatch the paper away. The witch moves back on her chair, eyeing the salad in danger of falling off into the floor. The wizard, however, doesn't seem defeated as he now approaches her from the side. "What you are doing is quite illegal, you know."

"I don't care," he says before taking the paper on his hands and spelling it on fire. He seems pretty pleased at himself as the anger and nervousness leaves his body. Then comes again the arrogant position, until he looks at her mischievous face. "What?"

"Do you know that the reports are submitted in a triple form, right? I can easily access it."

His face grows pale and, oh, boy, she enjoys power. Maybe she should reconsider a political career into being Minister?

"I will just send a memo," she continues, moving her salad slightly to the side as she finds a paper and a pen, "to ask for another copy and for more copies to be made."

"Granger--" he starts. "Don't read it." Another arched brow as the pen starts emanating black ink in form of letters. "Pl-- please."

Christmas has come early, she thinks, as she puts the quill down, leans back on the chair and moves it to face him.

"I'm begging you," he continues, prompted by her silence. His voice is strained, like this takes all his physical and mental forces and efforts, a children forced by his parents to say sorry. Not that Lucius and Narcissa would had made him say sorry to anyone, and wasn't that the core of his awful personality?

"There seems to be something missing."

Malfoy pass a hand over his hair as he says annoyed, "don't be ridi-- ok, ok." The words come quickly when she takes the pen into her hands again, and then, he sort of kneels on one knee. Is he going to propose her? She laughs and he fulminates her with his eyes. Ok, she will take this sort of kneeling.

Ah, how she wishes for a camera to make this moment eternal.

"Say it again."

"You are a f--." The man closes his eyes and exhales, before fixing his eyes on hers and says, "Please, Granger, I am asking you to not read it."

Yes, a camera. Maybe if she call one of the Ministry's elves they may help her out. It doesn't even matter that it goes against her morals. This is too much to let it pass, she thinks as she concentrates on his eyes and takes a mental picture of him. This is what dreams are made of.

She gives him a toothed smile full of joy as he swallows and then, sort of feeling pity for him and wishing to pet him on the head (which she doesn't because the fashionable beast will bite her arm off) she finishes his torture. "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yes, you can get up now." The man obeys her and god, this day is a before and after in her life.

"So you will burn the other copies?" He asks with a strange voice that speak more of his embarrassment than anything else, as he moves now in front of her desk, still not sitting down. She returns to her salad, because the clock is telling her that there are only five minutes left of rest.

"No, I already dismissed it."

"What?" Oh, bloody hell, she internally curses. His face is full of surprised and indignation starts replacing it in a quick velocity. "So you already read it?"

"Well," she starts, swallowing and fidgeting on the chair. She swallows a piece of tomato, but it's more nervous spit than food. "I mean," she restarts, taking another pile into her hands and righting the edges. "I always start the day by reading the reports, in case something has to be resolved quickly and-- it's almost twelve o'clock." Her hand gesture to the clock on the side wall, as an evident and rational cause of her actions.

"Are you joking?" His tone is dangerous and she gulps down air.

To do something with her hands she takes another pile as the angry beast seems to become a full wild beast each second on. "Malfoy--" She feels caught red handed by McGonagall, but then it had never feel like this. The angry gaze of her professor had never pinned her on the spot, or make her so nervous. "I don't understand what the fuzz is all about. I feel the same way about you, it's not that big deal."

"What?" He seems at a loss of words again. "What-- what did the report said?"

"It said--"

"Stop it with the papers, for Merlin's sake," he commands, taking away the papers from her hands and putting them on a shelve. She frowns at him, specially at the contact. This is not his office, that little devil. "What did it said?"

"It said that I was scolding all the Aurors about disappearing reports, and how much an idiot is he? It was increasing reports--," the man makes a motion with his hands to hurry up. "And then he heard you say that you would like to hit me. You're not very civilized."

"What?" He asks, frowning at me like I'm a green, big headed alien.

"Yes. Seeing that I very much would like to hit you ninety percent of the time I look at you -and that I had even already done it, don't forget-," his jaw sets in a hard angle at the memory, "I don't get what the big deal is."

"It said that exactly?"

"I think so. Ah, no, it said that you would like to _spank_ me."

To his frown is added a opened mouth and there's silence, until his mouth closes.

"Are you stupid?"

Silence reigns for a moment.

"What?" She asks ironically in stupidity, putting the still not empty salad into the bin because what else can she do?

He stands up straighter, looking down at her as in a moral high ground. "Stupid and sadist."

"I'm not--"

"No?" Malfoy asks, advancing one step, the desk wood colliding with his thighs.

"Don't act like you are not a Slytherin who had done worse."

"But you act like you are all good and perfect," she rolls her eyes at him and he leans over the desk to be menacing close. "Did you get off watching me humiliate myself like that for something you had already done?"

The witch feels her face burning hotly, as guilt suddenly manifest inside herself. "That's not--"

"You're going to regret this," he says, his tone full of promises. She swallows and stands up instinctively, but the man is already on his way out.

"Malfo-," she starts and the slamming door suffocates her words.

Oh, she's fucked.

* * *

Hermione lays in a state of alarm for the next week. When she encounters him in the elevator on the morning, she descends from the side further away from him, in fear that he would tackle her. Then, if he's walking behind her, her back seems full of joyful ants having the party of their lives, moving up and down at the possible threat of being cursed.

But he only sends her frozen stares, with a harden jaw and crossed arms. Just like now, as he sits across from her in the new bar that had opened on Muggle London that Daphne wanted to try.

Harry starts asking Hermione about her upcoming interview with the Magical Creatures Department Head and her irritation with the Auror Office. The woman answers absently, feeling under the microscope of an evil blond.

Gulping the glass of water in nervous at the non-wandering grey eyes, she stops for a moment at the timid upward movement of the corner of his lips. All movement freezes as her mind starts thinking on what has he done, if she has something on her face or if the wine was tempered with. Maybe he spited? Or put something in it? Laxatives?

"What?" The witch asks, frowning in anger and disgust as she puts down the possible spited drink.

The man curves a eyebrow at her, with his arms still crossed, impassively in his angriness.

"What's going on?" Harry asks, his mouth around a piece of bread from the little basket. He will fill up with bread and breadstick, and then complain when the food arrives of no one having warned him of not eating too much bread.

"Nothing," she replies instantly, with evident wish of him not finding out. Malfoy moves his head in false disappointment at her need of not defrauding Potter and she blushes and eats a breadstick.

Again the little smirk.

Bloody hell, is all the food poisoned?

She eats her food with a complete dry throat and all sort of insults move around her mind and are communicated with her eyes. When the blond grows distracted by something Zabini says, she interchanges her glass with his and then her lips curve when he drinks from it, imagining all the plebeian germens entering his mouth. It's not sanitarian, but well, it's that or possible spited or poisoned liquid.

* * *

Hermione knows why the blond had been so smiley two nights ago only when she enters the office of the Head of Magical Creatures to proceed with the interview that would save her from stupid paperwork about stupid people making stupid errors.

Just like he is now at seeing her enter the room. Malfoy is sitting in front of the bearded man, Hazel, who has a hand over his round stomach as he laughs at something the evil has said.

The papers full with all her achievements and personal data is slightly crumbled under her fist as her jaw clenches. _That fucking snake_ is the only thing she can think of, especially when his smile grows bigger and he stands up, clearly smug at the well delivered threat.

"Good morning, Granger," he says, head slightly tilted back in arrogance.

She answer with a stiff nod and a complete false smile, which makes her face awfully hurt.

"You know each other?" The other man asks, standing up and gesturing for her to sit on the recent vacant seat.

"Quite well," the serpent continues as she sits down and fidgets on the still warm chair with the strained smile on her lips, "since First Year at Hogwarts."

"Oh, good. I will have to ask your opinion before hiring her then!" Hermione's face freezes and she gulps down, sensing that in that moment the man's smile is eating up all his handsome face. Fuck, fuck, fuck, she thinks. She had been slightly worried about what Hazel was going to ask her: why she had wasted a year in the Auror Office, why if she love magical creatures so much had she terrorize the dragon on Gringotts (she hadn't, actually) or why so many elves insist on hating her. Never had passed over her mind that Malfoy was going to be another problem.

"Oh, I will _love_ that." The smugness is dripping from his voice and she has the urge to hex him or maybe even hit him in the face. Hermione bites her tongue, however. This is after all a job interview. "I will leave you two alone. Good luck, Granger."

The blond leaves and she mentally counts to six in order to calm down, putting a new smile on her face and concentrating on the man in front of her.

* * *

"So, how did it go?" He asks as if he is really interested, eyes shining with mischief and glory. The first thing the witch had done after the interview, was go in search of Malfoy. She had found him sitting on his chair, apparently waiting for her because there wasn't any paper on his desk or on his hands.

Her fury grows at seeing him. "You can't," Hermione answers, her finger pointing at him in an effort of reinforcing the threat.

"I can't what?"

"It's work, it's my future, you can't meddle with it!"

"I'm sorry." His false tone gets on her nerves and she wants to smash the stupid serpent glass paperweight that he has on his pretty face. "Wasn't Weyes' complaint work related?"

"I just read it!" She says, moving her hands in the air with exasperation. "I was doing my job!"

"Well, as a concern citizen and a Ministry's employee I am concerned on who occupies places of power."

She scoffs. "As if you give a fuck about magical creatures!"

"Language, Granger. Or should I tell Hazel of your temper and bad words?"

Glass paperweight for what? If she has fingers and almost longish nails. She could scratch his irises off. "I am this close," she warns gesturing with her fingers the inexistent space of her patience, "of hexing you."

"A violent defender of magical creatures! Merlin, I wasn't going to talk to him, but now--"

"Malfoy, back off."

"Beg," he replicates. "Just like you made me do. Kneel and beg and I won't say a bad thing about you. In fact, if you beg prettily enough I may help you out and convince him to place you higher."

"I don't need your help! I just want you to back off."

He gestures the floor in front of him. "I can conjure you a pillow so it won't hurt your little knees."

The witch stands there for a moment evaluating what to do. It wouldn't be so difficult to kneel and beg: they are only words. She wouldn't mean them, so what was the big deal? But the rejoice on his face, his eyes fixed on her and the intensity of his look makes her falter. Then, imagining the mocking that would come, the words he will say and the feeling of having win that would fill him, she can't help but choose her pride.

"Go fuck yourself," she says, slamming the door.

* * *

"How did it go?" Oh, the difference of the same question on two different mouths.

Hermione is sitting in a coffee shop with Daphne, who she had just encounter on the Ministry's hall and, on an effort of making Harry happy, had invited for a tea. Not that she didn't like the blond witch. She did, in fact. She just didn't think they have that many things to talk about, more than Harry. Well, Hermione thinks pursing her lips, she can complain about Malfoy.

"Awful," the witch replies after taking a sip of the cup. "I mean, good, but Malfoy was there first. " The other woman frowns in confusion . "He wants to take revenge for something I did. He's going to say something bad to Hazel, the Head of the department."

"What did you do?" Daphne asks, leaning over the table in curiosity.

Hermione sighs. She hadn't want to say anything because she actually felt a little bit of remorse at her petty actions, but the need to protest is stronger. "Weyes made a complaint about Malfoy, which he asked me to not read and burn it instead. I read it, of course, because it _is_ my work! I cant just burn it because someone asks me to."

"And?"

"And, well, I made him sort of kneel and beg. I had already read it, however." She looks down at the cup, moving the spoon around to not see the possible judgment on the pretty woman in front of her. "I stupidly betrayed myself and he got angry. He's right, but how many times in my life can I have Malfoy begging for something? " The witch asks, looking at the other in the eyes. "You surely understand, even more since you are his friend. "

Her companion laughs delicately and she feels less guilty. "Why he didn't want you to read it?"

"That's the weird thing. It's nothing new," she says. "Weyes heard him saying that he wanted to hit me." Daphne frowns again and Hermione can see the judgment at Malfoy forming on her face. "Isolated it sounds worse. I know he wouldn't hit me. And I say that of him almost every day. Not to forget that I actually did in Third Year."

Daphne tilts her head, a thoughtful look on her face. "What did the note say exactly?"

Hermione frowns as the woman takes another sip. Malfoy had asked the same thing. Does all Slytherin think alike? "It said that he wants to bend me over his desk and spank me."

Daphne coughs, tea going into the wrong pipe.

"Are you ok?"

"He said that?"

"According to Weyes," she replies, as the Slytherin takes another sip to calm her throat. "What's the problem? I would like to do the same to him too."

Daphne coughs again, little drops of tea raining from her mouth. Hermione frowns, passing her a napkin and thinking that purebloods don't really have that good manners. "You would like to spank Malfoy? I didn't had you like that kind of girl."

"He drives me bloody insane! Who wouldn't? You wouldn't?" She asks in rapid succession, and then stops. "What do you mean that kind of girl?"

"Hermione, you may have the concept of spank a bit wrong." The witch opens her mouth in incredulity to give her the dictionary definition, but Daphne interrupts her. "It's a sexual thing. It's not like he wants to hit you _hit_ you, he wants to _bend_ you over, move your skirt up, your knickers down and _spank_ you."

The Gryffindor freezes. The tea remains immobile inside her mouth for a moment, before she remembers to swallow. Then she frowns, her mind going overdrive, calculating in base of Daphne's hypothesis and trying to put it in relation with all her encounters with the man.

"You're misinterpreting it. Malfoy wouldn't want to do something like that to me."

Daphne abruptly laughs and then shuts up at her face. "Hermione, are you kidding?"

"What?" She asks with genuine confusion.

"He has a crush on you since Third Year."

"You're wrong."

"I'm not. I thought you knew but you didn't like him," the woman continues. "He's always looking at you!"

"What? Of course I didn't know. I mean, I don't believe you. Malfoy?" Daphne nods with glowing eyes. "Are you sure?" Hermione frowns, feeling like Daphne had just demonstrated that gravity didn't exist. "It doesn't make sense, why hasn't he say something?"

"Who can understand him? I know him since we were born and I don't understand half the things he does. Draco is a twisted man."

The witch remains silent. It did explain his exaggerated response to the complaint and his fervent wish of her not reading it. And she had caught him looking at her, but only because she's constantly involuntary looking at him. It explained the times he had touched her back or her shoulders to pass beside her, instead of avoiding contact like she was the plague. Or the time he had been inexplicably angry at her for the whole month she had gone out with Andrew of the Office of Misuses.

"Are you sure?"

"I'm not sure. I _know_ ," Daphne says smiling. "So don't worry. He's not going to say anything wrong to that Hazel or whatever he's called. He has said many times that he didn't understand why you are not in something that you are passionate about. Hadn't he say so to you?"

"He questioned my intelligence by occupying what he thinks is a senseless job, only because I need to mother Harry," the woman replies with her best Malfoy imitation.

"Because it's a waste of your time, you have say it yourself."

And it was true that it had been his words, the physical manifestation of her inner doubts and the guilt of leaving Harry alone, that had propelled her into searching a place in the other Department.

This new information put indeed everything under a different perspective.

* * *

For the rest of the day the Malfoy issue remains on her mind. There's no worries about her interview or even the blonds' threat; her psyche can only revisit all memories that involucrate him to try to discern with the new light the truth of his sentiments. She needs to make a field research. The hypothesis was already made Daphne. Now there was the need of proofs.

She scoffs in disbelief while she showers. Later while she eats a sandwich on her lonely couch with Crookshanks at her side. The next day while she enters the elevator. Her breath catches in her throat, however, when walking down a corridor he appears on the other end. It's not only the little smile that shows suddenly on his face, but the intensity of his eyes, fixed on her like glue as he approaches her.

Maybe Daphne was right.

"Good morning, Granger," he says, once he's by her side. "How are you this fine morning?"

He always greets her, even if the words are laced with sarcasm and mocking. He never ignores her, no matter if there was too many people around. He's always presenting her to the people he is with, if they're people of power. She had always thought it was him showing off his contacts and power even by being a mere Auror in contraposition with her and her stupid job. When he always named her intelligence she had always see it as mockery. Maybe it wasn't.

"Are you ok or the question is too difficult for your brain?"

She narrows her eyes at him. "I am just revaluating my life."

"Oh, joy. Is there something about begging and kneeling? Because I may be having lunch with Hazel tomorrow. It seems a good deadline for you to make your mind up."

Moving to the side to let a hurried man pass, she evaluates the pertinent questions to put the hypothesis in question. "What would you say to him?"

Malfoy frowns in answer, not moving to the side when another man tries to pass. "Why? Do you think I don't have anything bad to say about you?" He smiles down condescending. "I could start with your false love for the rules when you really just think yourself above them. Or your lack of effort in group work because you think all other opinion is just mindless and stupid. Or how you are always judging everyone around, being colleagues or bosses." The ends of his mouth goes even more up. "Not for nothing most of your co-workers at the Auror office hates you."

"Because I do my job," she says in irritation, specially recalling the face of Stephen -who hates her with a passion- from his bare desk, only occupied with his stupid feet when he takes his usual afternoon nap on the job.

Malfoy doesn't respond, only makes a flourish with his hand at her. She bites the inside of her mouth in anger. Daphne is wrong. Specially about him bluffing. "So do you want to go to a vacant room, kneel and beg?"

"That sounds too much like the start of a pornographic movie."

His eyes grow big and he coughs, saliva and air going into the wrong pipe. She smiles: it's always nice to take him unprepared.

"You seem quite fixated in seeing me like that, is there any reason?"

"You came up with the idea, Granger. Aren't you the twisted one?"

Oh, he's right. The information is tainted then. The worst investigation ever. She does have something to say, however. She thinks it over and then jumps into the pool, something at her navel waking up. "You were the one who wanted to bend me over and spank me."

Malfoy doesn't seem quite as put out as she had expected: he only studies her for a moment, making her awfully uncomfortable, especially considering that she's quite turn on about having this line of research with him. He looks at her neck evaluating what to say, and when she puts a hand on it in case there's something his gaze moves back to hers. Her breath falters. "Stupidity has left you, then?"

She opens her mouth to explain that it's not stupidity. How can someone blame her fot not interpreting the words right, for Merlin's sake? It's not as if she has men saying that kind of things to her face or to her back, for that matter. Well, him. She ends nodding.

"Ok," he says impassively, as if they were talking about the weather. She can see however how he swallows and wavers just slightly on his feet before standing firmer. "It doesn't change anything. I will be all day in my office if you need to kneel and beg." He moves away but then looks back at her. "Not literally all day, we are not all starved of fun like you."

She almost gives him the finger. The corridor full of people stops her, however.

* * *

Hermione walks up and down her little office, trying to discern what her small research has to say for itself and what she should do about the Hazel situation. Conclusion number one was that there was something, otherwise what could it mean 'stupidity has left you?'? Whether that referred his particular comment or as a ongoing attraction as Daphne said was still on hold. Further research was needed.

And then, Hazel. Even if Malfoy really has a crush on her, Hermione thinks he will do it anyway. He's after all a scorned and humiliated Slytherin. She smiles. Oh, how had she enjoyed seeing him kneeling and asking pretty please.

She certainly wouldn't have any objections if he kneeled again to do other things.

Well, bugger, her train of thought diverted quite abruptly.

Threat, Hazel, imploring Malfoy. Back on that, she commands her mind, biting her lips and ignoring the throbbing of her loins. Now that she has the initial evidence of him at least once having find her attractive enough to make a lewd comment, her mind can't stop thinking on what could happen if she says something. Maybe invite him to her flat. She blushes imagining the situation. Maybe she could kiss him if they are alone at some time at their reunions. Maybe she could sit beside him and touch him unexpectedly under the table.

Oh, Merlin, the possibilities.

At four o'clock she tries again to keep on the Hazel thought. That's the problem at hand. Malfoy would be leaving soon. What to do? She didn't want to kneel and humiliated herself. But maybe she could turn it in her favor.

Yes, she will do that, Hermione thinks rising up from her chair just after checking herself on a little mirror that Ginny had insisted to always carry around. Her determination wavers at bit along the corridor, and even more when she sees him walking towards the elevator encased on his outwear robes. He's leaving. Is she the only one that works, for Merlin's sake?

Hermione needs to get it over with, so she calls him. "Malfoy!"

The man turns his head fashionably to the side and a smirk invades his face. "Granger, I was just leaving to make a list of things I will say to Hazel in the comfort of my home." For a moment she thinks of telling him to take her there too, but cowardice doesn't let the words go past her thoughts. "Do you have something you want to say? We can go to my office."

The blond waits there, in front of the elevator, bothering with total casualness every person that wants to move in. She swallows and a woman slightly pushing her propels to make up her mind. She nods and his smirk grows bigger.

He's too smug for someone who has been exposed on his sex interests. The idea of turning things into her favor seems too little and impossible now, especially taking in consideration the nervousness passing along her body as if she is a mere adolescent just about to have her first kiss. Krum hadn't make her feel like this.

They move together down the corridor and the moment the door of his office close behind them she spells the door magically close. His eyebrows move up in wonder and only once he's leaning against his desk he speaks.

"Are you afraid someone else may see your humiliation?" He looks at her standing just by the door with pursued lips. "They may misinterpret if they need to come in. Imagine the horror, Granger! People thinking you're having sex in offices instead of working."

Hermione rolls her eyes at his mocking.

Silence unfolds as she shifts on her spot. When her gaze flickers over him there's smugness dropping like honey from his figure. His eyes doesn't waver from her figure and she feels the tension along her body at the close examination. He gestures the empty space before his body. "Didn't you have something to say and do?"

Her discomfort makes his smile grow bigger and his face twinkles with amusement.

"Go on, Granger. Don't let fear conquer you."

Bloody hell, she thinks moving towards him, feeling her cheeks blushing. Once she's just a step in front of him she doubts again. He's enjoying this too much. Even more than what she had: she had take sort of pity of him! He hadn't properly kneel and she had let him go with it. Malfoy, however, is going to make her suffer.

When his eyes flicker to her biting lips she sighs and kneels. His grin turns wicked.

"Please, Malfoy," she bites her tongue in shame.

"Please what?"

Hermione fulminates him with her stare and then looks down to the floor. "Don't say anything bad to Hazel."

The man looks at the ceiling, in false wondering, as a hand taps his chin. "I think this begging is lacking effort. Don't you think?" His intense eyes move down back to hers, tilting his head to the side.

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy!"

He clicks his tongue in false disappointment. Oh, how she wish to slap him. "You're not convincing me. At all."

Her brain counts to five as her knuckles crack on her sides. The idea of asking anything or even trying to make a move seems bloody laughable now. "Please, almighty Malfoy, Slytherin god among mortals, I beg you-- I implore you fervently to not say anything to Hazel."

The man narrows his eyes down at her, as if deciding the value of her words. "I love your enthusiasm. But you could make it better, " he says, pursing his lips in condescending rejection.

"Fuck y--," she starts moving to stand up, but he puts a hand on her head and shushes her.

"Once more. Without the sarcasm."

Is it her and her biased approach of the investigation or had the air suddenly shifted? Hermione swallows, feeling the warmth of his palm against her head like a divine rope. Her eyes fix on his and his hand twitches. She licks her lips unconsciously, still lost in the grayness of his gaze. There is the throbbing at her nape again.

"Please, Draco," his eyes flicker to her lips, "don't say anything."

His hands starts moving to the side of her face and his mouth opens to speak when there's a knock on the door, followed by the rattle of the knob. Malfoy's hand move away even before Harry's voice sound on the other side of the door.

"Malfoy! Don't hide! There's another case!"

Oh, god, Harry, she thinks and stands up, feeling her face flushed like an angry tomato. Malfoy looks at her before spelling the door open.

"I am already leaving, Potter," he irritably says as the other Auror moves into the office. "I won't take another case!"

"You're still here," the man replies, entering and looking at her with confusion. "What're you doing here, Mione?"

She scratches her face, shifting in her place guilty, not coming up with anything good to say. _I am trying to test a hypothesis your dear girlfriend has implanted on my head?_

Maybe _I'm begging Malfoy to not destroy my future._

The blond rolls his eyes at her obvious incapacity. "She's here to scold me for hitting Weyes in the face."

Hermione narrows his eyes at him at that new piece of information. How weird that there hadn't been any recent papers from that man then.

Harry is frowning still, looking suspiciously between them. "Why was the door--"

Malfoy waves a hand in the air. "Give me the bloody papers, Potter. And start talking, I wanted to leave early," he says glaring at her.

"I will go then," she says, glad to have the opportunity to evade the awkward moment.

"Mione, wait. Daphne told me you had tea together?" The witch nods and her best friend smiles, quite pleased by how well the most important women of his life were getting along. "I'm glad."

There's a scoff from the other man as he sits down at his chair. "Potter, I am going to gag." Then he looks at her. "I will behave."

Hermione nods before leaving in a hurry.

* * *

There had been something there, Hermione thinks, in that minute before Harry's interruption. A spark of something, a possible reality. That night, under the cover of darkness and her beige duvet, she touches herself thinking of him, imagining on approaching him the next day, letting courage take her hand and finally kiss him.

She doesn't see him, however. The witch goes into the office on purpose, with the excuse of talking to Harry, but he's nowhere to be seen. Then, the next morning she catches him in the corridor, but she has so many boring reports and he moves so quickly that they only nod at each other from distance. The next day she doesn't catch him.

Then the news of having been accepted into the The Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures comes. Hazel congratulates her, giving her his welcome on a position higher than she had thought he would offer her. For the first time in the last year she feels happy, accomplished, like a future she actually likes is opening before her eyes.

Hermione can't know if Malfoy had said something that had influenced Hazel's opinion or not. Nevertheless, she feels the need to share the news with him, recalling, as Daphne had made her do, his bothering comments that had made her move on with her unsuccessful life. She goes in the Auror Office, ignoring Stephen irritating face and irritating feet over the still empty desk, and feels a bit disappointed when she doesn't find Malfoy anywhere. Harry congratulates her, kissing her on the cheek and embracing her like she had just won the Nobel prize. Immediately he says they should celebrate and that he would call everyone to go out for drinks that very night.

She will see him there, Hermione realizes, feeling a tug at her navel as joy continues unperturbed.

After announcing her incoming resignation and only after starting to organize everything to leave her position in order for the next person, she decides to leave early from her boring work. Hermione enters her apartment like a new witch, the mix of freedom, nervousness and hope filling her tummy like a young schoolgirl, excited about the future. It had been too long since she had felt like that.

She takes a long shower, taking her sweet time. She spells the hairs away and after a moment of doubt, the coconut shower gel, which she only uses on special occasions, comes into her wet hands after a movement of her wand.

Crookshanks curiously regards her owner, while she looks at herself in the mirror. She puts over the bed her nice underwear, nice but not too nice to make it seem premeditated. 

What if Daphne was wrong? Why would Malfoy, who only goes out with beautiful slim tall women, have any interest in her? The cat meows, maybe guessing her self-doubts, and she caress his head, shaking it all away. Well, if she's wrong, she's wrong. Another day under the sun.

Oh, but the shame if Malfoy actually rejects her. Hermione sighs, planning on being drunk enough to later blame the alcohol in case it doesn't go as planned.

Then she picks up the green lacy set of underwear, just in case. And then a nice, but casual dress. Just in case too. A little make up spell and a splash of perfume. She looks at herself again, noticing the time, and before leaving she spells her hair down. No one can accuse her of wanting to seduce anyone that way.

* * *

As the minutes passes and the liquid on her glass goes down, all stupid and little hope starts dying away. Almost all of her friends are dancing, and she's sulking on a corner as the man she had wanted to see for the first time of her life, hasn't come yet.

Hermione waits, as she drains more alcohol to give her the courage enough to make an uncertain advance to someone that most probably doesn't feel anything towards her. Ron takes her out for a dance and she accepts, more for passing the time and killing butterflies that for the wish of dancing.

An hour later a head of blondness appears on the entry and she almost stumbles on a chair on her way back to the table. The man laughs, catching the act with his eyes from the other side of the room.

The witch sits down, organizing the empty bottles and glasses her companions had produced, putting them into a line for something to do as Malfoy finally approaches her and sits down on her side. Her stomach makes a turn and oh, god, wasn't it easier before Daphne had opened the can of worms?

"Congratulations are in order," he says, putting a goblet of her favorite wine in front of her.

Hermione takes it into her hand, caressing the body of the glass, noticing the new clue with biting lips. "Thank you."

"Are you happy?"

"Quite," she smiles then, looking at him head on. "I thought you were sad and that you wouldn't come."

He frowns, not quite catching the joke on her voice. "I had dinner with my parents."

"Oh," she says taking a mouthful of wine, shuddering at imagining having dinner with Lucius Malfoy. Hermione visibly grimaces and he arches a eyebrow at her. Not wanting to say anything wrong about his awful family, she moves her hand and knocks down three bottles. Beer starts pouring from one of them, invading the table as she clumsily tries to stop it with some napkins. Malfoy spells it away.

He moves the chair to have his body almost directed at her, close enough to create a capsule of intimacy. "Maybe you should take it easy with the alcohol."

"I'm drinking with a purpose," she replies, accommodating the rest of the bottles and glasses. He looks at her moving hands, maybe noticing her nervousness.

"Oh?" He asks, visibly curious. "And what purpose is that?"

Hermione looks him in the eyes, contemplating for a moment before lifting the glass again towards her lips. "I'm not quite there yet." She sips at it and his eyes focus on her mouth and then on her tongue when she takes a bead of wine from the corner.

His attention makes her stomach twirl with even more evidence. He moves slightly closer, speaking closer to her ears to win over the sound of the bustling room. "You will tell me?"

She swallows another gulp. "You will know."

Now his interest is completely picked. "How more alcohol do you need?" He asks with the corner of his lips up.

"I didn't eat much, so this glass? Maybe." She takes another gulp but courage doesn't seem quite there yet. His corporal presence so close to her makes her nervous. "Maybe yours too."

"All yours." His hand nudges the glass towards her.

"No," she says, moving it towards him and for a infinitesimal second there's hurt on his face, as if she were rejecting him and his infected glass. "You should probably drink too."

"For how this conversation is going I think you are already there." They look as the closer people to them, Luna and Neville, move away to join the others around the band that had just started playing. When Malfoy's eyes move again towards her, now too alone, too dark, too Hollywood ambient for romance and snogging, she bites her lips at the wave of nervousness on her insides. She hadn't feel like this ever, not even at her first date or at her first kiss or at her first shag. How come this man, one way of another, always woke up such intense feelings?

He's waiting and she feels too much like a coward. She gulps the rest of her glass on one go. "Ok." The man fidgets in his seat, passing from leaning against the back of the chair to leaning slightly towards her when she moves her body to face him more directly.

His eyebrows go up waiting.

"Did it turn you on?"

He seems taken back by her words. His face transforms in a confused frown. "What?"

"Yes, I mean--", she says, moving her hands to illustrate figures in the air, as if that would help him interpreting anything. "The other day when I-- when I kneeled and begged."

He moves back now, taking his offered glass into his hand. Hermione can see the white knuckles and the sudden anger and disappointment conquering his body. "Is this your way to pick a fight?"

"What?" The witch is confused at the sudden question and she has to put a hand on his arm to stop him from choking the glass.

"I didn't change at all, hadn't I? I'm just a pureblood supremacist."

"How did you even--" He fulminates her with his glare. "No! I was not asking that."

"What are you asking then?" He asks, harshly, evidently not believing her words.

She has all his attention again and she wants to take another gulp but her glass is empty and his is close to exploding all over. She must be blushing like an apple. "That wasn't even the question. I may had drunk more than I thought." Her hands move her hair to the other side in a nervous gesture. He looks expectantly at her. "Do you have a crush on me since Third year?"

Now _he_ goes all red and fish, moving his mouth open and close before closing it in determination and clenching his jaw. "Is this a joke?" He starts looking around for people ready to laugh at him but they're all dancing and minding their own business. Daphne and Harry are intensely snogging on the side.

"It's not a joke!"

"Who said that?" His eyes move towards her again as his body moves away, putting distance between them. She feels a little bit hurt but tries to read it as defense. "Is this revenge? I made you do just what you made me do. Why are you always so fucking righteous?"

" _What_?"

"I came here to congratulate you, not to be laugh at." His words come with finality as he starts moving to go away. Hermione tries to stops him, one hand on his arm. Internally she thinks how much of a inferiority complex or guilt he must feel to react so overly defensive. Or was it her fault?

"Malfoy-- Draco!" He doesn't listen to her and move rapidly towards the door. Luna looks at them impassively as Hermione moves to follow the man. His legs are more longer than hers and his body more able to command people to move away. Nevertheless, even as she fears he already left, when she remerges into the cold and empty street he's there, fuming at the nothing.

"Go back, Granger," he commands.

"You're fucking infuriating and exaggerated!" Ok, maybe those were't the words she should had said. His face goes redder, now with ire and his stare is full of scorn. When he moves his wand to Apparate away she rapidly puts a hand over his arm.

They reappear with a pop and violent vomit from her part.

"Granger, are you fucking crazy?" The man says with a tone of incredulity. "You could had splinched us!" She can only reply by vomiting again, liquid splashing across the floor and his boots. He conjures a Anti-nausea Potion. "Here."

"Sorry," she says just after she gulps it down and he spells the vomit away from the wooden floor of what looks like his living room. Hermione looks curiously around, having known that he was leaving alone on a apartment but never having been there. "Sorry," she says again.

He pinches the top of his nose. "You are fucking crazy."

"Can I use your bathroom?"

He sighs, evidently resigned at her presence. "End of the hallway."

Once in the little room (well, little as a comparative to the dimensions of the others rooms, because it was really twice the size of her parent's grand bathroom) she washes her face, spells her mouth clean and tries to put in order everything.

Fuck, it had go abominably bad.

She takes her head into her hands, cursing herself, the alcohol, him and the dynamics of their relationship. Well. Now she would have to resolve the situation. More sober.

Maybe he has a Courage Potion somewhere?

She may really need it, she thinks once she's back on the living room and contemplates the man looking at her with set eyes and rigid posture from the couch. She almost sits on the armchair away from him, but invokes the little Gryffindor still inside of her and sits beside him. She takes a gulp of the glass of water that he has left on the coffee table for her. On his hands there's another one, and judging by the color and smell it may be fire whiskey.

"I'm sorry that it went so wrong. I do think it's your fault, nevertheless--" she puts a hand up, putting a stop to his incoming words. "I may have been drunk, I may still be a tiny bit drunk, so maybe it is my fault. I'm sorry."

"I don't take it lightly when they try to mock me."

"I wasn't mocking you!" She yells exasperated, drops of water leaving the glass. The witch puts it on the table. "Can I just do it all over again?" The man takes another gulp of his glass and she looks with envy. "Or not. I don't know what to say."

"Granger--" He snaps at her in pure irritation and she knows he is going to kick her out. So she interrupts and improvises.

"What I mean to say is--." she starts, talking fast and nervously, looking intently at the glass on his hands. "That-- I-- I mean, It aroused me, ok? When I kneeled and then when you kneeled and begged also. It was sort of sexual, wasn't it? Or it could be. It had sort of a connotation. I think. Or maybe not. Not to say that I get off necessarily on power plays or that I'm a perverted, that's not the question. I mean that you-- _you_ turn me on. I have been attracted to you since-- well, I don't know since when. Not Third year, certainly, you were a little bloody brat. But-- I don't know. Daphne told me you-- that she thinks you have a crush on me and then, well--" For the first time in her rating she snatches a look at him, who's staring at her with such surprise and intensity that she shuts up immediately with the realization that she may had said more than intended. She feels her head go all red and hot. "And now that I think of it maybe she was wrong and you won't let me live this down. Can you pass me your glass, please?"

There's silence for a moment. "No," he says, drawing in one go what was left. "Stop drinking, otherwise it will be doubtful consensual." He moves to put the glass on the table. "So this was all you making a move?"

She hides her face between her hands. "No, well-- yes. I don't know."

"You're a disaster." He says, moving closer to her. "That's why you are always going out with jerks?" A glance at him shows her a smile on his face.

"Says the man who never made a move in ten years." Hermione says, goosebumps rising when he puts a hand on her face to direct her vision towards him.

"That's because there had never been any indication on your part that it would be welcomed." He stops her incoming words but tilting her jaw up, closing her lips. "Did you wash your mouth?"

She scoffs. "Yes, Malfoy, who do you--" He leans in and kisses her.

She is still for a moment trying to come to terms with reality: Malfoy was kissing her! Somehow even with all her planning and almost conclusive investigation, this possible consequence seem alien.

He shifts, moving away and then movement comes rushing back into her limbs. Her arms close around his shoulders and she kisses him back, leaning over him clumsily. He laughs when he almost falls back.

For the first time Malfoy laughs at her and she's not offended.

"Sorry, I froze for a moment," she says, blushing for the million time in the night.

The hand on her jaw moves towards her hair, inspecting under its touch a lock as if to determine if all his awful comments of it were right or wrong. "Why is that?"

His voice is commanding as always, but soft. Even his fingers feel sweet; his smile as if he was a happy boy. "I hadn't thought past me asking you. You took me by surprise." Something pass over his face and he frowns. "There was more probability of us fighting, which happened, than this. Isn't it a bit weird?"

The hand moves away and he nods.

"No, no. I mean weird, but ok, good, you know?" Hermione moves in and gives him a peck on the lips. "Can you please just don't listen to me? I seem to be saying everything wrong."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, of course, I'm sure," Hermione says. "I even put green underwear just in case." His doubt disappears immediately and mutates in a playful grin, growing bigger when she blushes again. "My god I am not drinking ever again."

"Will you show me?" He asks, sliding his arm behind her back to draw little invisible figures as his eyes stare into her own.

"Kiss me first." The man obeys and close on her again. There's passion like she never have known before. He looks like a thirsty man drinking from rain. His lips move towards her jaw and neck and she sighs in wonder, tugging at his hair.

She pushes him to the side and moves until she's straddling his lap. Her fingers undo the buttons of his shirt and then pushes it off his shoulders while he looks at her, leaning against the back of the couch as his fingers caress her legs, pushing the skirt of her dress up and up, until he takes it off her body to throw it on the floor.

Malfoy moves away to look at her properly and his hands scams above the green Slytherin underwear. The witch feels powerful, sitting over him while pure adoration comes in wave from his eyes. Her hips move against him, feeling him hard under her and he gasps, moving in to kiss her again. She moves her face back.

"So, do you have a crush on me since Third Year?" She asks, moving against him again.

"Power trip, Granger?" Malfoy retorts, with one hand on her hips to accompany the movements and moaning just a bit when her crotch seems to massage him just right. "I was the one who wanted to bend you over and spank you."

She smiles, but doesn't give in. "Later, if you behave." His fingers put more pressure digging into her hot flesh. "I already made a fool of myself, it's only fair."

He pursues his lips and for a moment she thinks he is going to cancel everything, too much vulnerability. She takes off her bra, however, and he seems hypnotized by the vision. His fingers move to encase her naked breasts and he confess. "It's true." He looks timid for a moment and compensates it by taking her breast into his mouth. He slightly bites down. "So it turned you down to kneel for me and beg." He says, looking from her breasts to her face. "Are you turned on enough now?" He asks, moving his hand towards her crotch but never quite reaching it. "Or do you need to kneel?"

"I liked it when you kneeled too, M-- Draco."

"Well," his hands caress her over her knickers and she sighs. "I have no objections." Then he moves her away and then kneels in front of her, each one of her legs on the side of his body. "But you will be the one begging."

His gaze wanders down her body. He reaches out and grasps her hips, bringing him closer. Then he kissed her stomach as he moves her knickers off. Goosebumps appear on her flesh when he starts pouring kisses around her inner thighs until his mouth close around her.

A surprised moan leaves her mouth. Malfoy smirks and peers up, sucking and licking. It's not fair, she thinks. No man ever had go down on their own initiative and on a first encounter. He puts more pressure and she moans again. Oh, god, he's good. It's quite fair, to think of it, if he's planning on giving head to her often. Otherwise no. He will ruin sex for her forever.

He moves her thighs even more up, opening her into the air and into his mouth. The position is wicked, depraved, too vulnerable but she doesn't care. Her hand moves to hold his head and stroke the hair. Malfoy gives a particular lick accompanied with a finger and she gasps.

"Good?" He asks, smug and smiling so beautiful that she's left even more breathless when more fingers go in.

"Yes, good," she answers reaching forward and moving his head up to meet her in a kiss. They encounter each other hard as he keeps fucking her with his fingers. She can't reach for his crotch, so she caress the bulge with her foot and now he gasps. There's delicious sense of power again and she smiles. "Good boy."

He answer by biting her lips and then moving slightly away to fulminate her with a glare. "Now you be a good girl and move on," his fingers go particularly hard inside, "with the begging."

Hermione is still not quite convince on the begging, especially considering the sweet pleasure she feels by his fingers and his attention. Malfoy seems to quite catch that because after some seconds of vicious fucking, he moves slower and then there's a sense of incompleteness inside that makes her try to move her hips to counter it. A sound of frustration leaves her mouth "Poor girl," he says, moving even more away, "do you need something?"

"Draco." His eyebrow and the movement of his hand move slightly up. "Please?"

He pursues his lips in false thought. "Don't you think that the begging is lacking effort?" His other hand caress her face and move her hair back to properly see her brown eyes.

"You're a git."

"Do you need a dictionary to tell you the meaning of begging?" He cranes his head to look around the room. "There should be one around. Oh, but you need Daphne, right?"

She frowns at him and clenches her jaw, but it disarms when his fingers reenter her more deeper. She sighs, pushing her body closer to his. "Oh, fuck, Draco. Please. Pretty please."

"What?"

"Fuck me, please."

The smugness and amusement leaves his faces as pure desire manifest. "You look so fucking pretty when you beg." In one rapid movement he has opened his trousers, taken down his underwear and direct his erect cock towards her glistening opening.

"I take you are on the potion?"

"Yes, yes, fuck me already!"

"Your wishes are orders." And then he penetrates her. "Fuck, Granger," he curses when he's already balls deep inside of her and starts moving.

She grins, knowing that she is the one winning judging by his face full of wonder. She leans in for another kiss, gasping as the coming and going of his hips disarms her completely.

Later, when round three has already ended and his dreams been accomplished, Draco can only think of one thing. "Merlin bless Weyes."


End file.
